


The Men

by southwest1995



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28340892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southwest1995/pseuds/southwest1995
Summary: This story is about a man who courts Homelander in a rather unusual way.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

“How many years has it been?” he asked himself, eager anticipation flowing throughout his veins as the elevator ascended into what felt like paradise itself.

He breathed in through each of his nostrils, the scent of fear and urine driving his secret arousal to unseen heights he would soon physically reach as well.

Ding, the elevator bell chimed, the metal doors opening without delay, allowing him to set his sight onto a large mahogany pair of double-doors that he could clearly feel his quarry through.

Ducking his head under the elevator’s frame, he stepped out of the lift with silent feet, never once glancing down towards the cowering, crying attendant in the corner who’d so graciously given him free access to where the man now trekked.

“How many?” he whispered to himself, the sound akin to rolling thunder despite his quiet query.

He could feel it within his loins. He could feel it within his heart. He could feel it within the deepest recesses of his very spirit. He could feel the little sun beyond the mahogany wood. And it excited him in a way he hadn’t felt in such a long, long time.

There were others, and they shined too, but none were like his little sun. They couldn’t do what his little sun could. They couldn’t give him what he so sorely sought. But they would make a nice dessert once the main course was eaten. They could at least do that.

He padded along, his keen eyes focused upon the double-doors, his form as empty as the very air he breathed, and it was because of this that they couldn’t seem to spot him with their instincts, nor with their strange, similarly superior genetic gifts. But this was the way he wanted it to be. He craved the surprise. He craved the disbelief. He craved the unseen, wonderful terror.

Twisting the right door’s knob quite gently with his free hand, he opened the aperture to paradise and entered without a word, spotting several costumed individuals seated around a shiny table, discussing entirely unimportant things.

Had he been less than what he was, had he spent fewer years under the tutelage of that old, monstrous martial artist that had trained his greatest foe, the man would’ve given in then and there. He would’ve let his presence be known, and his tempered madness would’ve driven him to quench his insatiable hunger before it was time.

But he had those years of experience under his belt. He had the control now, the discipline, and so he contained himself as he padded up to the table with eyes only for his little sun. The gathered members of the table, of course, didn't notice his approach, strange as it would soon seem to them.

Behind his little sun he stopped, gazing down at the blonde with a mix of contempt and disappointment, let down, a little bit, that even as close as the man was, the caped crusader didn’t seem to notice his presence.

“I-“ his little sun began, attempting to continue whatever discussion he’d been having with his comrades, but the man behind him was quite thoroughly through with the stalking and the oh-so-awful waiting.

Without seemingly any reason that a normal person would be able to discern, the temperature suddenly became both frighteningly frigid and humidly hot, and the gathered occupants of the room, short of the prowler himself, jumped out of their seats and turned their shocked gazes onto his waiting form.

His gaze never truly left his objective, however, as the caped man, like his peers, jumped out of his seat and whipped around, turning his sight on the man who stood behind him. It started on his waist, and it slowly trailed up and ever higher, taking in meter after meter of the three-hundred and twelve centimeter tall monster before him.

The blonde’s gaze was surprised and shocked, even disbelieving of what he was witnessing, but not frightened in the least, and that made the giant lick his parched lips and nearly rub at his warm, stirring loins.

“These are for you,” he thunderously said, holding up a bouquet of red roses for the caped man before him.

His little sun, with his head tilted back to gaze up at the giant’s face, glanced down at the offering with blankness in each of his blue orbs, and he lifted one gloved hand and took the giant’s gift.

The giant could feel it as the blonde took a thoughtless sniff of the flowers. He could barely contain it as it etched itself onto his face and forced his lips to curl upwards, showing his pearly whites for the gathered occupants of the room.

“What…is the meaning of this?” the blonde man asked, sounding utterly unsure if he was in a dream or if this was some perplexing prank being played upon him.

“We’re going on a date, gorgeous,” the giant rumbled, his jaw aching as he ground his teeth together in wild anticipation.

The blonde blinked several times and shook his head in obvious disbelief, as though he was unable to grasp that what was happening truly was happening, then he opened his mouth and narrowed his brow, deciding on a course of action that would never see the light of day.

“Is this a jo-“ he began, but the giant was already on the move, and, with his right hand, the back of the blonde’s head was within his gargantuan grasp, and his body left the ground so as to match the giant’s own height, forcing their lips to meet.

It was sweet. It was delicious. It was everything he’d wanted with his old foe. It was the best kiss the giant had ever experienced, and it was made all the better as he watched disbelief turn into outrage within each of the blonde’s blue orbs, only for something to then happen that excited him in a most disturbing way.

Rage turned into radiant energy, blue turned to red, and finally, at long last, the giant’s phallus rose and stood tall within his baggy black pants, and he could contain his demon within for not one moment longer.

Twisting through his left obliques, faster than any creature had any right to sanely move, and with more trunk flexibility than any contortionist could perform, his upper body spun a full three-sixty rotation, forcing the blonde’s face to meet storm-plated glass, the sound like deafening thunder as the caped man pierced it and continued his impromptu flight, smashing into a lesser building a half-klick away with such destructive force that it caused quakes to pass throughout the seemingly simple city.

Noise quickly filtered through the obliterated window, the kind that occurs when natural disaster strikes, and the giant, without so much as a thought, pulled out a large cigar, placed a massive thumb onto its end to light it with unseen power, and took a long, calming drag.

“Not yet,” he said to himself, savoring the feeling of the sun taking tangible form within the building he’d tossed his quarry into, increasing until it was nearly blinding his inner sense of energy. “No, not yet.”

It wasn’t everyday that such an opportunity arose. It wasn’t everyday he could savor such sweet flirtation. It wasn’t everyday that he could prolong his pleasure.

Tilting his head to the left as he exhaled a musty cloud of smoke, he breathed in deeply through each massive nostril, allowing the remaining occupants’ delightful fear to wash through his hungry mind.

They still stood motionless, each and every one, and all eyes were still upon his monstrous form, gazing up at him with shock, disbelief, and terror, and he felt good enough at that moment that he decided he would leave them in peace. That he would leave them intact and whole, to not use them as post-play, if only for this one occasion.

“When he returns, tell him I decided to take a rain-check,” he commanded, not an ounce of warmth within his rumbling voice.

None acknowledged his demand, but it didn’t matter. They would acknowledge the blonde’s command, and they would tell him what the monster had said, and that was good enough for him.

Without another word, he strode forward and hopped out of the shattered aperture, masking himself in the atmosphere once more, disappearing from their dim but genetically superior senses.

“Soon,” he murmured to himself, taking another calming drag from his cigar as he landed with a crash onto previously-unbroken sidewalk. “Soon…”


	2. The Thorn of Kentucky Avenue

“A-Train! Hey, A-Train!” a busty brunette exuberantly cheered as the speedster stepped through the arc that overshadowed the subway station he’d just exited. “Can we have a selfie?!”

A-Train, otherwise known as Reggie by a scant few, all of whom were dear to the superhero’s heart, rubbed at his sore chest as he placed a faux grin onto his darkly pigmented features, only to stop himself as he realized his mistake, and instead placed his fingerless-gloved hands onto his padded hips.

“Yeah, of course!” he cheered, watching in slight trepidation as many more civilians became aware of his presence due to the brunette’s rambunctious query.

Truth be told, Reggie wanted nothing to do with anyone at that moment, as his body, especially his head, throbbed in dizzy, chemical need, but A-Train had a reputation to upkeep, and he allowed the excited, mindless crowd to take their silly selfies, even going so far as to speed-autograph a pretty blonde’s blue blouse.

“So, who do I make this out to?” he queried with a faux-coy look, ignoring his aching organs and throbbing, fiery veins.

“Run,” an eerily familiar, thunderous voice answered from above and behind the speedster.

A-Train whipped around, almost tripping over his own two feet as he did, so fast and sudden was his rotation, and found the giant of a man who’d explosively interrupted the Sevens’ meeting the day prior, only to come face to face with a flower, a single red rose, so eerily familiar to the bouquet the monster had offered Homelander.

“You’re…!” Reggie breathed out, nearly gagging upon his tongue, and his heart threatened to rip itself from within its bony cage.

Reaching a massive hand up in a rather menacing way, the giant man grasped the rose’s petals and squeezed, effectively crushing the beautiful plant-head with force A-Train knew could rip him asunder with ease should they latch onto his flesh.

“Run,” the man repeated, his low-octave voice sending quakes throughout the speedster’s very veins.

Reggie’s knees bent, and his ankles, unconscious to his own self, flexed into biomechanical, coiled springs, yet his body did not depart despite his inner wish for it to do so.

“What…do you want?!” the speedster choked out, his dark eyes rising so as to meet the monster’s own, noting how deep blue slowly became black, as though the creature before him saw the supersonic superhero as little more than prey to be hunted, caught, and devoured.

The giant of man narrowed his eyes, blackening his orbs even more, and he raised his inner eyebrows and grinned rather beastily in reply, and then he released his grasp upon the flower-head and allowed a single deep-red drop of rose water to fall onto the sidewalk below.

“Run,” he repeated once more, the sound of his voice like booming thunder.

Without another word, the monster reached for Reggie with the hand he’d crushed the rose with, and the speedster, unknowing why, saw something within his mind’s eye that made his legs finally listen to reason.

A ball; a bloody, bone-crushed ball, with shattered teeth, burst eye sockets, and deformed, ruptured organs that had been created through hands of depraved malice and inhuman might. That’s what Reggie saw within his mind, and he knew who and what the ball once had been, and who and what it _would_ be should his superhuman speed fail him then and there.

The world blurred into a twisted hue of grays, whites, and blacks, and Reggie found himself unconcerned in the least that it would soon turn bloody-red, as the crowd that had been gathered around his previously-still form would soon morph into a gore-laden lake of carnage.

Everything seemed to simultaneously hasten as well as slow to a crawl as his noir sight did, in fact, turn red for a brief moment, and then it shifted to something else; something brighter and nigh indescribable; something he’d never seen before no matter how quickly he’d previously moved.

His legs, which granted him superhuman speed, burnt and burst, and his heart, so abused by his greatest vice, seemed to explode, as Reggie, A-Train, reached a speed he’d only dreamt of achieving in his earliest of days; a speed that he’d later in life accepted no human, super-enhanced or otherwise, could ever hope to achieve.

Faster still he sprinted, and the world around him blurred and twisted even more, and despite his previous, precarious position concerning the monster who’d been before him, A-Train felt an exhilaration greater and more profound than any artificial chemical or woman’s womb had ever provided him. He was doing it; he was achieving a speed only comic book heroes could dream of reaching; a speed that surpassed the very physics of grounded reality.

And then, his sight changed yet again, becoming noir once more, and at the very center of this unreal image of tunnel-light was a red dot, and A-Train knew, with utter certainty, that was where he wanted to be; where he _had_ to be; where he had to _go_. Somehow, he knew the red dot was where the answers to his greatest questions resided, and where infinite freedom of reality beyond imagination awaited. The red dot was where fabric light ceased and something beautifully unknown and unreal existed, and Reggie Franklin, the superhero better known as A-Train, would disappear into something and someone new; something and someone without worldly limit or human peripheral.

And then he heard a strange sound, one which encased and overpowered the air he’d been cutting through, and everythingness warped into nothingness, and Reggie Franklin was gone and behind him, forever vanished into that red tunnel of absolute eternity and limitless unreality.

The giant of a man released his prey’s right ankle, allowing the dead speedster’s head to collapse onto the drop of rose water he’d previously forced purchase upon the sidewalk.

The superhero had been fast, but not quite quick enough to outrun the giant who’d ended his life. It had been all too simple for the monster to catch him, and to use their combined joints to morph their bodies into a human whip using, primarily, the speedster’s kinetic chain, which had culminated its explosive energy into the dead man’s previously unscathed neck, causing a massive splintering to occur within his upper-spinal vertebrae. Indeed, it had been all too simple to end what should’ve been an exhilarating chase.

“What a disappointment,” he quietly rumbled, dropping the deformed rose onto the broken body below him.

As disheartened as he felt by the superhuman’s lack of interesting results, however, the man still felt quite good, as the smell of pheromones bearing terror entered into each of his hungry nostrils. Glancing up, the onlookers, what was left of them anyway, were either pointing their smartphones in his direction or backing away in sheer horror by what they’d just witnessed and what could still befall their own weak forms.

“At least the sights around here ain’t too bad,” he jokingly murmured, placing each of his massive hands into his pant’s pockets and beginning his trek towards his next destination. “At least there’s that.”


End file.
